Left You Lonely, Set You Free
by yellowNight
Summary: Chase, Forman, and Cameron clear the drawers of House's desk, only to find that he left one last puzzle for them.  Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Fic: Left You Lonely, Set You Free**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine! The title comes from the song "In the Gloaming," by Anne F. Harrison**

**NOTE: I can't help it--all my stories end up really depressing! I hope you enjoy. Reviews always appreciated.**

Forman looked at Chase, "Should we wait?"

"She isn't coming,"

"Maybe she got caught in traffic," Forman said. He wanted to pick a small argument just to stall the time. He wanted her to come.

"She isn't coming," Chase repeated slowly. He stole a glance at his watch, "It's 10. It's getting late."

"Fine. I still think she is going to come, though," Forman said stubbornly, holding the door open for Chase.

"She hasn't gotten out of bed since this afternoon. But I'll let her know you're thinking of her," Chase said, clasping Forman's shoulder briefly.

They stood in front of the desk. It looked so plain and so unassuming. Neither of them moved to open the drawers.

Cuddy had taken the paperwork mess from the top and given it to some other doctor. The insides of it were untouched, though. It was left specifically for the three of them.

Forman gave Chase a small nod, and he opened the first drawer. They took out the pens, pencils, receipts, half-eaten Snickers bar, six pennies, two dimes, and tic-tacs. They created a small pile in the center of the desk.

"What do we do with it?" Forman asked.

Chase picked up a couple of the pens. They were plain, blue ballpoint pens. "I'm going to take these," he said slipping them into his coat pocket.

"Need pens?" Forman asked.

"No, I would rather have them than whoever is getting this office next," Chase said defensively.

Foreman was silent for a moment, "Why did you have to say that?"

"What did I say?" Chase asked.

"Now we're going to keep every piece of garbage left in this desk," Forman sighed.

"It's just a couple of pens," Chase said.

"But I don't want anything left behind for the next person, either," Forman said.

"We'll throw out the receipts and keep the concrete objects, ok?" Chase said, taking a handful of paper.

"But if he wanted this stuff thrown out, he would have done it himself," Forman said.

"You're being irrational." A tired voice came from the doorway.

Wilson was standing in front of them, still wearing his suit from the funeral. His tie was loosened and his hair disheveled.

The two younger men remained silent.

Wilson handed Chase a box, "Just put everything in here for now and we'll decide later what to do with it all, ok?"

Chase and Forman nodded and began clearing each drawer, throwing out as little as possible. They worked slowly and only broke the silence every once in a while.

Wilson sat across from them and helped, although he seemed to become more absorbed in his thoughts than either of them. He would take each item and stare at it as though he was trying to picture House using it, how long ago he might have used it, and why he had bothered to keep it.

Cameron walked in around midnight. She was still wearing her black dress, but the stockings were gone and the high heels replaced by sneakers. She sat silently next to Wilson, but didn't move to help.

"Last stack," Forman said, splitting up the pile of papers from the bottom drawer.

Chase was the one who found it. It was written on a yellow piece of legal paper in dark pencil.

Chase's voice cracked, "I hate to ask this, but did he have a will?" He looked directly at Wilson, whose eyes became large.

Wilson cleared his throat a little, "No, actually, he didn't."

"I think I found it," Chase said, holding the yellow piece of paper up so they could see.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**a/n: thanks so much for the reviews! hope you enjoy! chapter three is all ready for posting, so I'll have that up in the next couple of days, too. **

_Cameron, Chase, and Forman-_

_Goodbyes were __never __really my thing. If you're reading this and I was wrong, then I'm probably looking down at you-or up at you- right now and criticizing how you're handling the crap in my desk. There are some things I want you to have. Forman, take everything from under my bed. Cameron, take the orange Nike shoe box from the top of my closet. I'm leaving Chase my guitars. _

_Tell Wilson, because I assume he is with you even though Cuddy told him to go home, that I made the last payment on the apartment in 2005, and that it's all his. Tell him he can do whatever he wants with the furniture, but __if he sells the piano I'll haunt him for the rest of his life. _

_-House_

Underneath the body of the letter was House's signature, letting them know that this was his idea of a will.

Chase handed the paper to Wilson, who folded it and slid it into his pocket.

Cameron stood and opened her arms in a gesture of surrender, "I wasn't going to sleep tonight, anyways."

"Me neither. And I was planning on spending the night on his couch," Wilson sighed.

"So we're doing this now, then?" Chase asked. He shifted uneasily in his spot.

"No time like the present," Forman replied, as he pulled on his dress coat.

They stood in a semicircle around his desk.

"Someone is getting this office at the end of the week," Wilson said, placing his hand on the desk's corner.

"Who?" Forman asked.

"I don't know. He's a new cardiologist," Wilson replied. "They are replacing the carpet on Thursday," he added as he moved toward the door.

"And Cuddy told us all not to come in the rest of the week, right?" Forman asked quietly.

The other three nodded. They knew exactly what Forman was trying to say.

They each took one last look at the emptied office.

Chase slipped his hand over the light switch and let the door close behind them.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**a/n: this is the second to last chapter. I know that Cuddy is absent from this fic, as well as a cause of death for House (if you want to read my last fic, "Never So Bright," this could be taken as the sequel, I suppose). This actually started out as a one shot (chapter 4 was written first) and just evolved from there. I hope you enjoy the next two chapters and a big thanks for the reviews! **

**a/n 2: I'm not sure of the legality of what occurs in this chapter, so just take it at face value :-)**

Forman crouched on the floor to get a better look under the bed. Clothing, towels, piles of medical journals, and newspapers greeted him.

"This is his idea of one last joke," Forman called to Cameron, who was standing on a chair to sift through all the things on the top shelf of House's closet.

"I think you're right," Cameron called as she climbed down with two shoe boxes. "I found an orange shoe box, but it's not Nike and it just has a pair of loafers in it. And I found a Nike box but its blue and it has a pair of sneakers in it."

Wilson wandered in, "Keep looking, Allison."

Cameron was startled by the use of her first name, "You heard me?"

"Trust me, it's up there. I told him not to hide it so well but he insisted. He said it was part of the fun," Wilson sighed.

"So you know where her box is?" Forman asked from under the bed.

"Nope, but let me get up there. I have a funny feeling," he said.

Cameron climbed down and Wilson took her place. "Hold the chair steady," he remarked as he leaned forward as far as he could. He pushed against the plaster tiles of the wall until one easily moved aside.

He climbed down, "There's your box."

"How the hell did he get it up there?" She marveled as she handled the dusty box.

"He wasn't your average cripple," Wilson smiled.

She took the box into the kitchen and sat at the table. She hesitated. Wilson leaned against the door frame.

"Do you know what's in here?" She asked.

"Nope," he replied.

"It feels like mostly paper," she remarked.

"I really don't know," he said, taking a seat across from her.

She removed the lid. She was right-it was mostly paper. It seemed like a keepsake box. Some movie ticket stubs, a picture of him presumably as a teenager with a dog, and the ticket stub from the monster truck rally. Cameron was touched that he left these things to her, but as she began to comment, she noticed a thin white envelope at the bottom of the box.

She held it up for Wilson to see, "What do you think this is?"

Wilson shrugged, although he was pretty sure he knew exactly what-and how much-it was.

Just as she opened it, Forman came rushing in with a matching one. Her jaw dropped.

Forman stood in front of her, dumbly, holding up his envelope.

"This is," Cameron started

"This is three years' salary," Forman stuttered.

"Chase! Chase get in here!" Cameron started to call.

He poked his head in the doorway, "Yeah?"

"House left us more than his guitars," she said, showing him the check that was meant for both of them.

"But how can we accept this?" Chase exclaimed.

Wilson leaned back in his seat, "No kids, no nieces or nephews. You were all he had. He wanted you to have this, he just didn't want the death taxes taken from it."

They noticed the checks were made out to cash.

Cameron, Chase and Forman wordlessly stared at each other for a moment, the shock of that many zeroes still gripping their thoughts.

Chase went back into the living room. He couldn't deal with all this.

He took the guitar off the wall, touching it for the first time. He sat with it on his lap for a moment, the strings staring up at him.

Even though he didn't know how to play, he held it in position as if he could. He thought of all the times House must have come home from work, tired and alone, and sat exactly where he was sitting holding that guitar.

Before Chase could allow himself to become truly lost in his thoughts, the corner of another envelope caught his eye. This one was taped to the back of the guitar with his name printed neatly across the front.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n: chapter four was actually written first, and the other three chapters just kind of sprang up around it. I realize now that it's a little incongruous with the rest of the story and definitely a little more depressing than I feel is fitting for the end of the fic, but I decided against re-writing it. I hope you enjoy it, and a huge thanks for the reviews! **

Chase noticed this envelope was different than the ones that held the checks. For one thing, it only had his name on it, unlike the other envelope that had both his and Cameron's name.

He slid the letter out. On a piece of neat, business stationary, House wrote-

_Dear Robert,_

_My dad bought me this guitar when I was 13. It was one of the few nice gestures he ever made toward me. This guitar has meant a lot to me over the years, and I always knew I wanted t__o one day pass it on to my son._

The letter wasn't signed. Instead, in a neat cursive, he wrote where the signature would go,

_I'm proud of you._

Chase clutched the letter. He felt a cold sensation in his chest, followed closely by a tightening and then a burning that blazed its way into his throat.

It wasn't tears. It wasn't even any type of emotion. Instead, it was emptiness, consuming his entire being.

His mom was gone. His dad was gone.

And now House was gone, too.

He heard movement in the kitchen, and he quickly slid the letter under his coat, which was lying across his feet.

"Are you ok?"

He felt Cameron's hand on his shoulder.

He sighed. "I will be," he said, placing his hand on top of hers. He made no motion to turn to look in her eyes, though.

"What have you been doing in here?" She asked quietly.

"He's really gone," Chase remarked as though he were answering a different question.

"I know," she said.

"I didn't think it would ever happen. For some reason, I just pictured House out living us all," Chase continued.

"He loved you," she said.

"I know," Chase replied.

"He was always trying to protect you," she said. Chase couldn't discern her tone or what she was trying to say, but he felt as though she knew about the letter.

"Even when he fired you," Cameron continued.

"I know," Chase said blandly, hoping she would stop.

She knelt in front of him, but said nothing.

Part of him wanted to keep the letter under his jacket. Part of him wanted to hide it, and pretend it never happened.

Because if the letter was real, it meant House was really gone. And if House was really gone, it meant he truly was an orphan.

end


End file.
